The Apologist
by Grevola
Summary: It wasn't supposed to be like this. But how else could it be?" Death fic, AU, Triez POV, angst, gore, one bad word. Edited.


**Title: **The Apologist**  
Author:** Grevola  
**Rating/Word Count:** R, 858**  
Warnings/Notes:** Major death fic. AU. Treiz POV. Angst, sad, gore, bad word. Edited since posting at gw500 and fandom-cliche.

* * *

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

But how else could it be?

Pilot 05... No, Chang Wufei. He challenged me to a duel. When I refused to kill him after his defeat, he turned his sword on himself. To quickly for me to stop him. Before dieing he confessed he was too weak to avenge his wife's murder, she died at the hands of OZ, and he hoped that some one stronger might carry on the fight. He wanted to die with honor, and I couldn't prevent it. He was dead before a medic could make it to the scene. I couldn't stop him.

Pilot 01 sacrificed himself in Siberia. Self-destructing his Gundam and making a clear statement to both OZ and the colonies. I wish I knew his name. His bright flame was snuffed far to quickly. Far to young. Even when the colonies began falling into our hands there had been admirable murmurs of the young man's sacrifice. That OZ troops confiscated the body and gave him a pauper's grave only increases his legend.

Pilot 03 died on the moon. Under the name Trowa Barton he successfully infiltrated the highest OZ ranks and then, once he had both Lady Une and Duke Dermail on base, he had detonated everything. He'd made quite the eloquent speech, broadcast sphere-wide, before detonating the entire lunar colony. He said he'd done it for freedom. For the colonies. For soldiers everywhere. And with that he took the Mobile Dolls and their creator to their grave.

Pilot 04 identified himself three days later, when it was clear Pilot 03's sacrifice had not made the desired impression. Quatre Reberba Winner allowed himself to be turned over to OZ by angry colonists revolting against his family's rule. The same colonists that had driven his father to destroy a resource satellite rather than hand it over to what he saw as an invading force. The young Winner had issued a statement saying he would comply with the wishes of the people of his colony, and though he made a heartfelt appeal to their better nature, they insisted on passing him into OZ custody. He was taken after a mysterious explosion in his home destroyed the basement, several storage facilities and a private shuttle dock. Remains of a half-constructed Gundam were later found.

Pilot 02 was eventually linked to a series of mysterious disappearances of OZ and OZ-sympathetic ships in the L2 cluster. He was surrounded on the colony, away from his suit, and violently subdued. Three top soldiers died. The report, and rumor, said he had only submitted when other colonists were threatened. I was forced to promote Officer Trant, who issued the threat.

Now the two boys stand facing the execution squad shoulder to shoulder. Pilot 02 insisted their faces be uncovered. "When the video leaks out I want them to know I didn't flinch," he'd said. Winner had only nodded, but he had not spoken since being taken into custody.

The dignitary reading their crimes slows and finishes. Carefully the guns are raised. According to tradition one is loaded with a blank, though none of the soldiers holding them know which. A feeble attempt to assuage guilt. Each hopes that they hadn't in fact fired the killing bullet.

The officiator gives the signal.

They hesitate. One or two lower and raise the guns, not able to choose their targets. What presence these boys claim, even now.

Pilot 02's voice rings out, "Get it over with and send me home, you mother fuckers! I've got people waiting!"

He startles one of the men into pulling his trigger. The others follow quickly, but not so quickly they don't see Pilot 02 start to collapse as one knee erupts into a shatter of blood and cartilage and bone a second before the other bullets hit. The young men, no they are boys. The boys dance like puppets on strings before dropping lifelessly to the ground. The wall behind them is now riddled with holes and blood. They did not flinch. They did not cry out. And sooner or later the world will know this. They died men.

Me, I am standing at the peak of my empire, with my last remaining enemies fallen at my feet. Their spirit has been perfected in that moment of sacrifice. Like Zechs, who died on my orders, they have escaped into immortality and legend. Those who trained them died with 03 on the lunar base, and with their deaths any thought of rebellion has been quashed. All men are bent and broken before me.

I am victorious.

I am sorry.


End file.
